


What Happens On The Stairs... Should Be Repeated Everywhere Actually

by LadyGrimReaper



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Hot Sex, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Stair Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGrimReaper/pseuds/LadyGrimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Sherlock Kink Meme Fill! The <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21697.html?thread=125811137#t125811137">Prompt</a>.</p>
<p>The boys are too hot and bothered to make it up to their rooms. Therefore, the stairs dot dot dot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens On The Stairs... Should Be Repeated Everywhere Actually

"Oh god." John whispers hoarsely, trying to figure out how Sherlock seems to have so many fucking hands everywhere. "This! Off. Right the fuck now." He hissed, tugging at the giant coat before Sherlock attacks his lips like he's trying to devour his soul through his mouth.

 

The door is barely shut when there was entwined bodies _withering_ against it, panting coming from both mouths, the sound of fabric rubbing against jeans.

 

And then suddenly Sherlock's coat was off, condom and packet of lube nipped from the pocket and put in the blonde's mouth as he efficiently stripped the other until the tall man was completely starkers. Sherlock could have sworn that only ten seconds had passed, and holy hell John was affecting his time management area of the brain and this was **glorious.**

 

Sherlock returned the favour with vigour, almost tearing the Oatmeal Jumper off and the undershirts. _Really_ , John? Too many fucking clothes on John.

John slowed, on tip-toes to get the right angle to rub against Sherlock's cock, and _Oh good god, that feels fucking good_. He's gasping for breath as he tries to speak.

"Oh..fuck....S..Sherlock, who's ... _Oh yes, wrap those filthy long fingers around our cocks, yeah, just like that, that's beautiful_. Who's turn is it?"

 

He really didn't remember how to speak, all centers of his brain were turned off except the pleasure receptors.

 

Sherlock seems to grow another foot as he manhandles John up the door and pins him to it with only his hips, and god damn it if this show of strength didn't turn him the fuck on.

 

That sinful voice rumbles in his ear, at least an octave below it's regular register and John's cock twitches between the two eagerly. " It would be my turn."

 

He returned to grinding deliciously between John's legs, a slippery finger making its way between the globes of flesh and teases the fluttering muscle. The angle is hardly something to wish for, but he makes quick work of preparing his army doctor.

 

Condom on, cock slicked up with the remaining lubricant and John suddenly finds himself on the damn stairs, facing the doorway in Sherlock's lap.

 

He giggles to himself, completely taken back. He's about to ride his lover/boyfriend/partner? reverse cowgirl, his apologies, cow _boy_ style on the stairs where his landlady, or anybody could just walk in and get in eyeful of them both.

 

He wraps both hands around the hand rails and lets Sherlock angle him and the head of that gorgeous prick nudges his cleft. A sort of roll of the hips and a long, slow, breathtaking descent and John is fully impaled on his lover and gasping. Fingers clenching the rails, John uses the stability to pull himself upward and then lets gravity sink him down and... oh good fucking lord he feels so full.

 

And then Sherlock _moves_.

 

Sherlock's feet are planted, his fingers are bruising John's waist, and he is hammering up and up and _up_ into that tight ass and it is amazing.

 

Little feral grunts and mutterings are turning Sherlock's usually eloquent speech into something barbaric and **real**.

 

John is _moaning_. Incomprehensible and obscenely loud, his head is thrown back and mouth wide open, those pink lips swollen and wet.

 

The pace slows to slow and gentle and John starts rolling and swiveling his hips furiously, fucking himself with Sherlock's cock while the later just holds on tight.

 

A long fingered hand reaches around and wraps itself around John's cock and his eyes roll back into his head because he will never, _never_ get that image out of his head again when he looks at those hands and fucks himself with renewed vigour onto Sherlock's cock and into his hand.

 

Once **that** angle is hit, John is praising him, praising Him, praising The Cock, and extremely close to dying by orgasm.

 

Sherlock definitely knows and pursues his own orgasm, thrusting harder and harder into the squirming, sensitive John Watson. Until John unexpectedly pulls himself off of him, causing Sherlock to whimper in protest, and John wraps those lips around his cock and Sherlock shrieks as his orgasm is ripped through him, sucked out by a talented mouth and milked through to completion. He's pretty sure he blacked out, but John's lips are still working his cock, quickly becoming overstimulated and he weakly pushes against the blonde's cheek, gasping. " Too much, too much."

 

John straddles Sherlock and begins ruthlessly stroking his cock, gazing down at the beauty sprawled across at least five stairs. He hunches over to put his hand a step above Sherlock's head and groans as his own release approaches.

 

Sherlock is getting his breath back, and lends a few fingers to John. He slips two immediately into the loose hole and seeks out the lump of nerves and starts massaging and stroking in time with John's hands.

 

John gasps, a high pitched delicious sound and cries out when he comes. One, two, three streams of come and several droplets paint Sherlock's chest and he hums in appreciation.

 

"Oh, god.... that was..." John is giggling again, breathless and flushed as he eases off of Sherlock and plasters himself next to Sherlock who is still boneless and satiated.

 

" Mmmmmmmmm." Sherlock's brain was just starting up again. John giggled again, kissing the bow of his upper lip before gingerly standing up and extending a hand down to him.

 

"Yes. Exactly. Mmmmm. It was definitely Mmmmm, but it won't be Mmmmm any longer if we stay on these stairs."

 

"Don't want to move... "

 

"Well.. I think I can squeeze out another round, but I'm not doing anything on the stairs. You can stay here if you'd like, but I'm starting with or without you in the next fifteen minutes."


End file.
